The Russians were winning and beginning to realise it. Infantry platoon commander Anatolij Tschernjajew, contemplating the pitiful state of German prisoners, assessed ‘to a certain extent they had been unprepared for a war against Russia.’ In his view:
‘The popular picture of the German Army had altered starkly during the course of the war. The summer and autumn offensives had been conducted against a back-drop of an invincible, mighty and colossal strength. Now when we saw them miserable, half-naked and hungry in front of Moscow we realised that this army had been defeated.’(14)
The moral initiative was passing to the Russians. It was coincidental with a diminution of the moral component of German fighting power. A reversal they themselves were beginning to recognise.
The German soldier does not go ‘Kaputt!’…
The crisis of confidence
By 7 December von Bock had appreciated that ‘the orders for the ruthless pursuit of the enemy’ were justified only if ‘the ultimate sacrifice’ demanded by his Army Group was against the very last of his forces’. This was demonstrably not the case, and this ‘mistake’ had forced his army group to go over to the defensive ‘under the most difficult conditions’. On the telephone the normally ebullient Generaloberst Guderian had described his situation ‘in the blackest of terms’. He told von Bock that ‘a crisis of confidence was taking hold’ among the troops and NCOs. When closely questioned against whom, he declined to answer, but constantly asked his C-in-C whether OKH and OKW were being given a clear picture of what was happening at the front. Visibly affected by this exchange, von Bock passed on his concerns to General Halder a few hours later. The Chief of Staff told him ‘not to take Guderian’s comments to heart’. When von Bock admitted he could not stand off a determined attack anywhere on his front, Halder speculated it was likely that the Russians were using cadres and untrained troops which they would otherwise have held back until the spring. ‘I suspect,’ he said, ‘that it will continue until the middle or end of the month and then tail off into a quieter period.’
‘By then,’ remonstrated von Bock, aghast at Halder’s insensitive appreciation of what was going on, ‘the Army Group will be kaputt [finished].’ Halder coolly responded: ‘The German soldier does not go “Kaputt!”‘ Von Bock ordered his planners to begin working on the practicality of a 100–150km withdrawal along a line stretching from Rzhev through Gzhatsk to Kursk.(1)
Guderian was merely articulating the moral transformation that had occurred from the Ostheer’s high point at the beginning of ‘Barbarossa’ to the present crisis before Moscow. He viewed it in physical terms. ‘We are faced with the sad fact,’ he wrote on 8 December, ‘that the supreme command has over-reached itself by refusing to believe our reports of the increasing weakness of the troops and by making ever new demands on them.’ A typical product of the analytical German General Staff, Guderian concentrated on the tangible manifestation of the physical component of fighting power. They were insufficient in numbers and not equipped for the cold. Even after failure at Rostov, Guderian complained, ‘the same old business went on as before’. His criticism was directed at a failure of the General Staff to present clearly an accurate picture to the political leadership, Adolf Hitler. His men, meanwhile, carried the burden. He complained:
‘Then my northern neighbour broke down; my southern one was already very weak, and so I was left no alternative but to break off my attack, since I could hardly roll up the whole Eastern Front by myself, let alone at a temperature of −32°.’(2)
The ordinary German soldier, who had awaited the order to attack on the eve of ‘Barbarossa,’ was not the same man being ordered to fall back from Moscow now. Of his nine peculiar characteristics identified at the beginning of the operation,(3) six were transformed in the crucible of the campaign. Change had accelerated between September and the end of the year. Success in previous campaigns had created an idealistic zeal that diminished with casualties. Atrocities across the front drove a wedge between those who retained decent personal standards versus a peer pressure to conform with National Socialist ideology. Resistance to the Commissar Order had come from liberal Weimar-educated older officers and NCOs who had been decimated by casualties or retired through illness brought on by physical and nervous exhaustion. Confidence following near-victories at Leningrad and Rostov ebbed with the realisation of failure. The surge in the size of the Wehrmacht following its victorious campaigns in the west had diluted previous quality, which was parcelled out among smaller but more numerous Panzer divisions. Casualties by September, followed immediately by crippling losses in the autumn and winter offensives, had removed the cream of the combat-effective and experienced leadership. The ‘teeth’ had suffered in disproportionate terms to the specialist ‘tail’, breaking up the combined operations characteristics of divisions. The ‘seed-corn’ of Blitzkrieg was dead.
The characteristics that had not changed during this process of disintegration were those related to the continued existence of the Nazi totalitarian state. Its ‘endless pressure to participate’ and its acceptance of ‘order and duty’, regimentation and acute sense of responsibility to ‘orders’ was holding the core of the army together during this crisis. Faith in the Führer remained, but would be increasingly questioned in the future on both the home and fighting fronts as the fortunes of war deteriorated.
The Russian war was to prove a catalyst for the German nation. There would now be a certain intangible conflict between those who clearly fought for the Führer and Nazi ideology, and those who did their duty for their country. Men who had been prepared to storm Warsaw, Rotterdam, Paris, Athens, Belgrade and now Smolensk and Kiev, questioned whether Moscow was really worth the price. The decline of the moral component of the Ostheer’s fighting power can be charted within Halder’s Diaries, adding weight to Guderian’s assertion that the signs had clearly been evident, but the Supreme Command, over-confident in its assessment of German fighting power, had ‘over-reached’ itself. As early as 3 November Halder was admitting that Army Group South was pessimistic’ and losing drive, and that ‘some energetic persuading would be in order to kick them’. On 22 November he assessed that the troops on the southern wing and centre of Fourth Army are finished’. The commander of the 13th Panzer Division and one of his ablest regimental commanders have had complete nervous breakdowns,’ he observed on 1 December. Nine days later he commented on Guderian’s ‘serious breach of confidence’ in the field commands, and that the ‘commanding General of the XXVIIth Corps is said to have failed completely.’(4)
The crisis of confidence is also reflected within the Feldpost. Soldiers, aware of censorship in the Nazi State, were still wary of free expression when they sent letters home. Gefreiter Fritz Sigel, complaining of frostbite in the fighting around Tula in temperatures of −32°C, echoed his commanding general’s concern when he wrote on 6 December:
‘My God, what is this Russia going to do to us all? Our superiors must at least listen to us on one occasion, otherwise, in this state, we are going to go under.’(5)
Gustav Schrodek, stalled with the 1st Panzer Division one hour’s Panzer drive from Moscow, had written four days previously in his diary that ‘the troops’ trust in the higher command had quickly disappeared’. In his view, ‘morale has collapsed’.(6) Failure to reach Moscow, which the troops keenly felt to be their due by virtue of casualties and pain, was deeply disappointing. One Leutnant from 258th Infantry Division claimed their lead unit had penetrated to within 30km of the city, ‘an indication of the heroism and readiness and effectiveness of our soldiers’. Casualties were not unexpected, and those that were lost were all loved’.